Sad Poems: Merchants

Sad Poems: Merchants             i wish i could craft images like this

just a thought

when some people find out i am a multiple rape survivor they get excited. my ex husband had a whole book of rape and molestation short storeis written by women. for him it was something to get off on. i see the adds on craig's list for the rape role play games. i know that some women use this as a controlled arena to work some shit out. i know that some women just think it's kinky and naughty thus fun.
for me i tried bdsm and it did not help with my issues. i did learn i had more baggage than i thought. i tried new age healing. and nothing really changed except i got labled a priestess and was excepted to heal others; because i had survived the rapes with grace and still had hope and compassion.
but then i looked at history and art. and rape looks beautiful. incest is the stories of nobel people. much like today bulumia, though a painful illness, has it's societal rewards. so is my pain proof that i am a pussy or proof that that humanity is still in tact. and will there be a time when rape and incest are not fetishized.
here is visual point: Rape of the Sabine Women

so i choose the keep the crime and the grime in my paintings because this does not represent my experiences

a short/unfinished poem

Me and the real world




They say I have a sensitive soul

I feel my senses in ebbs and swirls

Of beyond words

I have been told I am very serious

I don’t know how to have casual conversation with the trees

I have been asked to lighten up

Go with the flow

Relax

How should I ignore the chaos that corrupts what is left of culture

The red flags of indifference

The cries of the tossed aside

It is not that I have not tried to fit in

Get along

Be in the thick of it

I just hoped for something different

Something more real than acceptable cruelty we put upon each other

Because we are in such pain we know no other way

the demon of don't say a word

i wrote this to explain a picture a show few. but what the picture meant can be shared. some time has past and still keep my mouth clammed shut about certin things




The demon of don’t say a word




Six years ago I went on a quest

To find where this darkness came from

I traveled to where the mountains met the desert and begged for guidance

I could not stand the woman I had become

Due to lost childhood I had survived

I did not like the friend I could not be

to those who expressed love to me

“it’s up to you” he said

That man

That year

Up to me to face it

To see it

A vision quest is not what I understood it to be

I took the pain route and found a demon of my own creation seething deep

It is the one that many find

I named it “don’t say a word”

Her flesh sickly green with envy of those who did not know our pain

Her head bald from years of ripping hair from the roots when she felt misunderstood

She has no nose to smell danger with, allowing every cruelty to get us

The gape known as her mouth band aid shut

But still allows access to anyone who wants get off

A pussy and a cock growing from the barren earth where her heart ought to be

A hunting knife protrudes form her cunt barring love and respect to enter

Instead of hands she has hammers

To beat herself to a pulp whenever the threat of light and day appear

Blood not milk careens from her nipples

To feed all the sickness born from her infected loins

But it is her eyes

Wide and round

Seeing all

Never turning away from me

She begs of me

A mercy killing

She never asked to be born

She never wanted to wreak havoc

She is my unfortunate Frankenstein

Cut and pasted together

With trespasses I ignored and truths I could not bear

Six years ago I was ready to face her

Stare her down and take away her power

I was not ready though

To go it alone

All the heroic stories I held dear had an army to do battle

A family to tend to wounds

Friends to give guidance

“you are strong enough to do this” he said

That man

That

Year

But then the devils dressed as friends and relations said I could take another path

They did not see the demon so why should I

They painted a world for me to escape into

A world where all I had to be was court jester

Minstrel

Concubine

What ever was needed I became

Banishing her

My demon

To the tundra

Figuring she would be in a deep freeze

In no time and I could forget

Move on

Like everybody else

Said they did and wanted me to

But I knew

I knew she had survived

For she haunted all my good times

And cursed every attempt at health

Sometimes I wanted to face her again

But I have been to busy fighting for others

Tending to the wounded on this battlefield of current culture

Trying to grab my piece of the pie

Anything to avoid her

Me

Pain



And then yesterday

She whispered

Please expose me to the light

And the day

She craved to become ash

Soot

To be swept out of my hearth

It is safe now

Because the wanna be devils are gone and

And the world they painted has given way to actual nature

Because I have everything to lose

And I am scared

Terrified of letting go the lie

That she is separate from me

There are many who are praying

Chanting for me to fight her

She is begging to be destroyed

She forgives me for making her

And for blaming her

For all my bad behavior

“you are already doing it… you just don’t know it” he said

That man back then

And the faith I lost six years ago

Catches up with me

Giving me

The Courage to Heal

To find those other demon slayers and learn how to be

Once I leave the battlefield

There are those who send me good cheer and hope from soil far away and close to home

Because they have conquered chaos before and they will do it again

For themselves

As I will learn to do

And I will promise that I will not create a beast to take her place

I see her flesh go from green to grey

And smolder in the sun

I see the bloody hammers fall to ground in exhaustion

I see that gaping hole grow into a mouth and grit its teeth

I see a heart of earth grow soft moss and flowers

I trade that hunting knife in for an ax

To chop firewood with

Building a campfire for me to sing and cook by

I see her get a nose and ears to sense the danger that will always be in the world

Her scalp flowing locks that tell the tale

I slay the idea that I need her

To keep secrets

To survive

I slay the dream that I could conquer all that hurt me

This was the first seed of her



With a foundation

With

Truth and sincerity

Love and initiative

Beauty and balance

Strength and determination

Mercy and grace

I try to understand the knowledge given to me on my vision quest

Embracing the revelations from Yemaya

In those watermelon mountains

Yesterday was the start



Today is…

She is fading

As I write my truths and say those hard words

She is crying

In relief that her time and purpose are done

I am crying to

For tomorrow

A relief

That the way to destroy any scraps of her

Is to say the words

Is to let the truth be told

No matter how ugly and awful

I will not have to live in fear of her exposure

I will acknowledge the history of her always

For this is how I got here

This place of restoration

This place where I seek the methods and the art of peace

This long time coming

Being able to be a friend not only to myself but to those

in my life who simply desired the best for me

six years of the wrong road that leads me to the right place

“I may let go of your hands but I will be here” he soothed

That man

That year

And away he went

Leaving me to my own devices

Trusting that I would reach

The beach

And not drown in an ocean of despair

I stand firm on the shoreline giving thanks

Remembering that it is never too late

To hope

sad poems

i feel that sad poems are more than that. they are raw truth poems. the truth of a world we need to except and not turn away from because even though that truth may hurt it can also give us the streangth tho our eyes wide open to the real experience we call life.

Sad Poems

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